


Prologue

by VivereLibri



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12460836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivereLibri/pseuds/VivereLibri
Summary: Princess Evalin Ashryver Galathynius preoccupies herself with her friend’s troubles so she doesn’t have to face her own.Crown Prince Rhoe Galathynius just wants his wife and his best friend to be happy.Lord Cal Lochan is equal parts smitten and confused.And Marion just wants to be able to do her job.--Can you believe this almost got named "The Lord and the Laundress"?





	1. Chapter 1

The crisp air made Marion’s breath cloud in front of her as she walked. Leaves crunched under her feet, and dry grass hissed as her cloak and skirts dragged over it. Huffing, Marion brought her gloved hands back up to her face and blew hot air into cupped palms, trying in vain to defrost her nose.

“Shall we go back in?” Evalin halted next to her friend.

Before Marion could see concern paint her features, she shook her head. “I like these walks. Soon it’ll be too cold to even think about going outdoors.”

Evalin snorted. “Some would say it’s too cold right now.”

“But not us.” Marion linked their arms and trudged forwards. “The cold makes me feel alive.”

“Alive indeed.” Evalin muttered, but there was a small smile on her face. They both enjoyed taking long walks on the palace grounds, even if they sometimes complained to each other. As wonderful as Terrasen was, the court could still get stifling. Evalin, Princess and future Queen, took whatever opportunity she could to escape. And Marion, laundress, couldn’t agree more. She loved Evalin and would do anything for her friend, but even this northern court gossiped. Better to take isolated walks than be seen by the stuffier lords and ladies. 

“Did I tell you about how Rhoe was talking about going to some hunting lodge this winter?” Evalin waved a hand dismissively. “The fool wants to try ice fishing. I asked him what I was supposed to do, and he had the gall to act surprised I wasn’t going to join him.”

Marion grinned. “Not a fan of fishing?”

“I’m not a fan of freezing my ass off!” Evalin squawked. Another reason Marion liked these walks was because her friend got to let down her guard. The only other people out here were the guards trailing them at a discreet distance. 

“Would he go alone?” She asked.

Evalin shook her head. “No, probably not. Maybe I’ll send him in a couple of years. By then I’ll be tired of my husband.”

Marion resisted rolling her eyes. “Evalin, you can’t play the part of exasperated wife. You and Prince Rhoe and so clearly in love, it’s almost disgusting.”

The princess wrinkled her nose. “It is, isn’t it?” The two giggled together, talking of inconsequential things as they wove through the palace grounds. This section was untamed, spotted with trees and shrubs. If they kept walking they’d end up at the smaller patch of gardens, more fit to show off to refined guests of Terrasen.

Crunching footsteps headed in their direction gave Marion pause, though there was little to fear so close to the castle. From among the trees, two men appeared. 

“Rhoe!” Evalin cried happily, darting forward and forcing her friend to follow. 

Prince Rhoe grinned, lifting his wife off the ground as he gave her a quick kiss. Evalin blushed, halfheartedly threatening Rhoe to put her down. “How was the trip?”

“A success.” Rhoe boomed, taking a step back from his wife and towards his companion. “Look what I picked up on the way.” He clapped the other man on the back, giving him a friendly shake.

The man was tall, probably a few years older than Marion. He was not particularly remarkable, but handsome in a pleasant way. Broad shoulders and a sword and dagger hanging from his belt gave away that he was a warrior, like Rhoe. Judging by the way he hadn’t fallen over when Rhoe had put his hand on his shoulder, the man was as strong as the Prince too.

“How are you, Cal?” Evalin hugged the man—Cal. “And how long will you stay in Orynth?”

“Well, I’m feeling fine now, but I suspect I’ll leave as soon as I start to miss Perranth.” He cut a look towards Rhoe. “Someone was eager to get me here.”

“We spent two days in Perranth, that’s more than enough time.” Rhoe said. 

Content to be forgotten in the background, Marion made an undignified noise when Evalin pulled her forward. “Marion, this is Lord Cal Lochan of Perranth. Cal, my dearest friend, Marion.”

Lord Lochan made a courtly picture, bowing a little a holding out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Fighting to contain a blush, Marion gave him her hand and tried to keep her voice steady as he laid a chaste kiss on it. “You as well.” She drew her hand back as quickly as was politely possible. 

“What are you ladies doing outside in this cold weather?” Rhoe said. 

Evalin frowned. “I could ask the same of you. Marion and I enjoy our walks, and we wanted to get all the fresh air we could before it became too cold.” 

“Cal and I were walking through the grounds to see if there might be anything left to hunt.” Rhoe offered an arm to his wife. “But we would be more than happy to escort you back indoors.”

Evalin looped her arm in his with a smile. “How noble of you.” The pair started walking, which left Marion with Lord Lochan. Before he could get any ideas, she laced her fingers in front of her and began walking after the pair. They whispered to each other, glued together at the arms, and shoulders, and hips. 

“I have to confess,” Lord Lochan kept pace next to her. “I have already heard a little about you through Rhoe’s letters.”

An acquired habit to think before she spoke was all that prevented Marion from very rudely saying she had only heard of him in passing. “Well, I hope the impression you got wasn’t too damaging to my character.” Self-deprecation. Oh, why did she turn to that of all things?

But Lord Lochan only laughed. “On the contrary, Lady Marion. I have heard only the best of things.”

“Oh, now you’ll talk to me and all of your expectations will be crushed.” Stupid, by Anneith, that was a stupid thing to say. “You don’t have to call me ‘Lady’. If you’ve heard of me, you must know I’m not really one.”

“No?” Lord Lochan look straight ahead, pensive. “You are the princess’s closest friend, though. There are few positions more deserving of the title.”

“But ‘Lady’ is not a title that has been bestowed on me.” Marion countered. As soon as the words left her mouth, a bright blush bloomed on her face. That was the wrong thing to say. Too impertinent.

But Lord Lochan spared her pride, still looking ahead and allowing Marion to collect herself. “Would you prefer it if I called you Miss…?”

“Just Marion is fine, Lord Lochan.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around her stomach. 

They walked in silence for a while, the looming palace growing closer with each step. It was a magnificent structure, old and new. The foundations of the palace remained, but with every year that went by repairs were made and new innovations added. As such, there was always some sort of construction project going on. Marion vividly remembered when the new plumbing system had been installed. It had been hell at the time, but once she could get hot water in the laundry rooms with the turn of a faucet, her opinion had changed.

“Are you cold?”

Marion jumped, realizing she had lifted her hands to her face again. “Oh, I’m fine.”

Lord Lochan swept his cloak over his shoulders and settled it on her, despite her protests. 

“Really, Lord Lochan, I’m fine.” Marion’s face was red with embarrassment. “I have my own cloak, and now you have none! Please, take it back.”

“Not until you are indoors and warm. Your nose looks too red to be healthy.” He teased, causing her blush to deepen. “Besides, I’m used to many cold nights. I’ve just returned from the southern border, which despite being in the south isn’t as warm as you would think.”

This man! Marion didn’t know whether to like him or to scoff and brush off the charm. It had always been a point of contention for her, men who just seemed too perfect. 

Anyone who seemed perfect on the outside always had something hidden on the inside. It’s why she could only halfheartedly enjoy the romance novels Evalin threw her way. Perfect men, yes, but too perfect. Flaws that were too perfect. Circumstances that were too perfect. In the real world, no one married for that kind of love. Evalin and Rhoe were the only exception to the rule that Marion had found so far. And that, she would attribute to some obscure fae magic.

And why was she thinking about romance at a time like this? Was she possibly considering something between herself and the Lord of Perranth? What a fool Marion was being. She cast the idea away with scorn. 

Once they were back inside, Marion said a quick goodbye, returned the cloak, and then retreated. Evalin and Rhoe would likely want to catch up, and Lord Lochan undoubtedly had some important, lordly business to attend to. 

The narrow door the servant’s stairs swung open silently as Marion passed through. She hurried through the slim corridor, sticking to her side and dodging any other servants she met on the way. A nod or quick wave was exchanged with people she knew well, but nothing more. They all had work to do. Although Marion was given a rather long leash, she was still a laundress. Her superiors couldn’t do much when the Princess demanded her time, but they still expected her to get her work done. 

Marion knew better than to dawdle. She hurried to the room she shared with a kitchen maid and threw her cloak and gloves on her bed. Practiced by now, Marion shucked off some of her finer things—clothes fit to wear when seen with a princess— in favor of a rougher frock fit for her work and an apron. 

When she arrived at the laundry rooms, they were abuzz. Marion kept her head down and quickly headed to her station, sliding in next to another girl to wash the more delicate clothes of court. Her experience of working as a laundress more or less her entire life garnered her this esteemed position—if any position in the laundry room could be considered esteemed. 

“Would you handle these?” Her friend, Crista, brought over a basket. “Difficult stains.”

“Right.” Marion rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Spilled tea on a delicate nightgown was soaked in hot water before she scrubbed it with a sprinkle of a powder that helped get the stain out. Sauce on a delicately embroidered bodice got soap, vinegar, and a delicately meticulous rubbing. Blood on some unruly lord’s tunic was scrubbed with a bar of soap, rinsed in cool water, and scrubbed again. 

“Give this to Deedra.” Marion pushed over the delicate gown to Crista when she returned. “The detailing is too fine to be thrown in with other things.”

“Got it.” She swapped one basket of stain free clothes for another filled with muddy guard uniforms. “I heard Lord Lochan arrived today with the Prince.”

Marion didn’t rise to the bait. “He did.”

“I heard that you and Princess Evalin were out walking and met the Prince and Lord Lochan.”

Gossip travels very fast. “We did.”

“I heard that Lord Lochan gave you his cloak.”

A little flustered now, Marion put down her work to give her full attention to her friend. “Where did you hear that?”

Crista gasped. “He gave you his cloak!”

With dismay, Marion noted eyes turning towards them. “A little louder, Crista, I don’t think Yugla heard you gossiping.”

“Oh, I heard just fine.”

Marion winced as the head laundress stalked over. She bent down over her work again, and Crista picked up her basket. But neither of them dared to flee. Yugla stopped in front of them, hands on her hips. “So?”

“Ma’am?” Crista said. 

Yugla was a large woman, imposing and strong. From her hair that was always tucked into a no-nonsense bun to her strong arms to her manner of walking, the head laundress was a force to be reckoned with. And not someone you wanted to get on the bad side of. Yugla studied Crista, and then turned her gaze to Marion. “So. Is it true that lord gave you his cloak?”

Yugla smirked as the room dissolved into laughter and giggles. Marion couldn’t help her blush as she nodded. Yugla winked, and then sent a withering look to Crista that sent her scrambling away. 

Marion was left to finish her work, though occasionally pestered with questions. A girl carrying a basket across the room paused to ask Marion how tall Lord Lochan was. Someone else moved to work beside her, a poor attempt to disguise his questioning about how many soldiers Lord Lochan brought, and did she see them, and did she maybe know if Lord Lochan would participate in training some of the local men? Others had questions about how handsome the Lord of Perranth was, and one girl was even bold enough to ask how he smelled. 

It was a relief to leave to deliver clothes to Evalin and Rhoe’s rooms. Although every servant in Orynth was trusted, the guard had obscene rules about security. Soldiers watched every move of the royal family, and their court did the same. Once everyone got over their suspicion of Marion, the guard added her to the short list of those approved to enter the Crown Prince’s rooms and demanded that Yugla send her to deliver the laundry. Never mind that the servants and ladies’ maids could retrieve washed clothes and bedsheets themselves.

It was no use complaining once the decision had been made, though. If Marion was honest, it was nice to be able to leave the laundry room, a boisterous steaming place that always smelled of soap and stronger tonics. Her hair always frizzed terribly in the humidity. 

In contrast, the cold dry halls of the palace were quiet. Everyone was likely in some large banquet hall already for the grand dinner welcoming Lord Lochan. Perranth was the largest holding in Terrasen, and as such the young lord was welcomed with ceremony. 

Marion walked swiftly through the halls of the royal wing. Here, there were no hidden passages for servants to use. Either you were supposed to be here or you weren’t. The guards stationed in the hall were pleasant if they recognized you, but downright hostile if they didn’t. 

“Little late for a laundry delivery, isn’t it?” One of them, Tyren, called out as she walked past. 

Another guard, Dollej, snorted. “Not like she could have waltzed into the rooms earlier.”

“I’ll refrain from telling the Princess you spoke anything less than complementary about her, Delloj.” Marion said as she breezed past. 

“Oi, that was very complementary!” Delloj joked, and the chuckles followed Marion down the hall. Well meaning, these young men, but not always so polite. They loved Terrasen, and Orlon and Rhoe and Evalin, but it didn’t always come across on first glance. 

The guards right in front of Evalin and Rhoe’s doors were more serious. They gave her a once over before nodding and opening the doors, letting Marion through. “The Prince and Princess are at dinner along with Prince Aedion and Princess Genevieve.”

Marion guessed as much, and she thanked the guards as she walked through. Inside, a few of the maids tidied up. It seems that Evalin and Rhoe had time to play with their nephew before getting ready for dinner, and predictably Aedion had made a mess. Marion skirted them, and with the help of another maid she got Evalin’s dresses, Rhoe’s tunics, and the other linens put in the proper places. 

She was just finishing up putting new sheets on the Evalin’s bed, in the bedroom Evalin never slept in, when the doors to the room opened and the sounds of a child crying reached her. She rushed out, observing the scene. Aedion squirmed in Rhoe’s arms, clearly distraught. Evalin and her cousin, Genevieve, fluttered around Aedion and tried to soothe him. Curiously, Lord Lochan stood in the threshold with wine spilled down the front of his tunic. 

“I’m so sorry.” The Lord of Perranth apologized.

Evalin waved a hand. “It’s not your fault.” She took Aedion from her husband, but his cries only tapered down a little. Aedion was so big now that Evalin was having a little trouble managing in her constricting dress. Marion stepped forward without thinking. “Oh Aedion, what happened?”

Marion didn’t spend as much time with the young prince as his aunt and uncle or his nurse, but he was familiar with her. Surprisingly, Aedion leaned towards her and Evalin had no choice but to hand over the boy. “We had performers at the banquet tonight—I take my attention off of him for one second…I’m sorry, Gen.”

Genevieve waved a hand, walking over to Marion and Aedion. She lifted the boy’s hand—where a nasty red burn blistered. She smiled ruefully and explained to Marion. “He saw the fire throwers and got so excited that he upended a glass of wine onto Lord Lochan and tore off before any of us could catch him. He got too close and…” She held up the hand as explanation. “Next time you want to see something, Aedion, tell me, okay?”

“Okay.” The little boy said petulantly, his good hand fisted in Marion’s dress. She sat on the couch as a healer walked in, a basket of supplies slung over an arm. 

Genevieve sat on Marion’s other side. “You three go back to the banquet. I’ll see how Aedion is feeling, but we’ll probably just go to bed.”

“Come on, Cal, I’ve got something that’ll fit you.” Rhoe murmured, leading his friend into the bedroom.

Marion called after them. “Soak the tunic in cold water, please!”

Lord Lochan looked back, caught off guard, but Rhoe nodded and ushered his friend in, closing the door behind them. 

“Why doesn’t Lord Lochan have his own cloths?” Marion was hesitant to ask. 

Genevieve and Evalin shared an exasperated look. The Ashryver cousins were as close as sisters, and looked it too. “Rhoe was so eager to get back that they outpaced their trunks. I suspect they’ll arrive tomorrow morning, along with plenty of horses that have been ridden too hard.”

“Your husband wanted to get back to you,” Genevieve shared a look with Marion. “That’s more than what we have.”

Evalin blanched. “I didn’t mean—I’m not ungrateful.”

“Oh, Evalin, I know.” Her cousin said. A moment of tension passed between the two, one that Marion and the healer tried to ignore as they tended to Aedion. Genevieve would not tell anyone who Aedion’s father was—anyone but Evalin that is. Marion guessed that the man must have been good and kind, for it was obvious Genevieve had loved him. But there was something preventing him from doing right by the Ashryver princess and marrying her. It was not Marion’s place to pry, but she could not stop herself from wondering. 

Lord Lochan and Prince Rhoe exited the bedroom a moment later, and they returned to the banquet with Evalin. Genevieve didn’t feel up to taking Aedion back, so Marion helped the two get settled for bed. Aedion had a nursemaid, but more often than not Genevieve herself liked to bathe Aedion, dress him, play with him. That, or let her cousin do it. 

Tonight, Marion got the honor of getting Aedion ready for bed while a maid helped Genevieve out of her constricting dress. It was not a role that a laundress would usually play—but then again, she was not just a laundress, was she? Evalin’s friendship with her had made Marion a friend of the entire royal family—though she had not gotten over her shock at receiving a bouquet of flowers from King Orlon on her birthday. 

But being with Aedion was simple. Yes, he was a prince. But he was also a small child who didn’t know what that meant, not yet. In time, he would grow. It was likely that he would be like Rhoe, a warrior, and take the blood oath to a future ruler of Terrasen. 

It was hard to see that in the child that splashed in his bath, who giggled when Marion scooped up some bubbles and blew them in his face. Bringing the laundry to the royal chambers had been her last task for the day, so she let herself dawdle. Marion would have to raid the kitchen for some scraps to make up her dinner, but it was worth it. She was not a part of this family—or of any family. But in moments like these, it was nice to pretend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm sorry this took so long! I had this written forever ago, but I wasn't happy with it. I'm still not completely thrilled, but it'll do.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

By the time Evalin and Rhoe got back to their rooms, most of the castle was asleep. After the banquet, some of the younger members of court commandeered a sitting room and a few bottles of wine. They shared stories of their adventures patrolling the borders or fond childhood memories.

Evalin couldn’t lie and say she didn’t miss Wendlyn or her family. But it was so easy to be sucked into the court in Terrasen. They soothed some of the ache. Everyone she had met, from Marion to Orlon, drew her in and made her new home better. Evalin was not as gregarious as her husband and had worried about finding her place in Terrasen ever since she left home. Years later, her worries had been soothed.

“Did we hear anything from Gen about Aedion?” She asked as she walked into the bedroom she shared with Rhoe. Their chambers had separate rooms, but Evalin used hers as a place to keep her extra clothes and jewelry, luxuries she had a soft spot for. It was where her maids helped her get dressed and undressed, where she tried out different jewels and hairstyles. While Rhoe acknowledged and indulged her, he was a soldier who would only ever need the bare necessities. As a result, the room they shared was simply tasteful. The most expensive thing in this room was probably the bed, a grand piece that both she and Rhoe enjoyed. Very much.

“They’re doing fine,” Rhoe said as he bent over a basin, splashing water on his face. “Turned in early.”

Evalin hummed, sitting at her vanity and picking up a brush to run through her hair. A maid could have done this, but Evalin liked the routine she and her husband had every night. It was their time to talk, to simply exist together as husband and wife. 

And, if she was lucky, Rhoe would brush and braid her hair for her. 

He did so that night, standing beside her already dressed for bed. Before he started braiding, he ran a hand through her hair, down her neck, brushing her collar bone. 

Evalin reached up to take his hand. “Rhoe.” She met his gaze in the mirror. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, pulling away. 

“You don’t have to apologize.” They had been apart for weeks. Any other time, Evalin would have dragged him to their bed and had her way with him. But she couldn’t tonight. 

Rhoe finished braiding her hair and stepped back to let her stand. “You know you never have to explain to me…you don’t have to justify it. But is something bothering you?”

It was uncharacteristic of her, and he knew that. Evalin sighed, stepping into her husband’s embrace and wrapping her arms around his broad form. Rhoe was solid, muscle and might forming a thick warrior’s body. When Evalin felt like she was lost at sea, he was her anchor. 

But that rarely happened, because Evalin was a planner. She was not a warrior like her husband. She wouldn’t lead soldiers on a battlefield, but there was no better mind to command them. Evalin Ashryver had never really been ashamed of her intellect. When she was younger, Glaston teased her about it in the way children do; it didn’t really make sense but hurt her all the same. There might have been something along the lines of “scheming witch.” Or maybe some other unsavory term. He got cuffed on the head by their nursemaid for it, and their mother gave him a stern talking-to. In the queen’s mind, there was nothing amiss with her daughter. She was the picture-perfect princess. Kind, intelligent, unobtrusive. No wonder her family had been so shocked when she ran away. But her mother had always said that Evalin’s mind was to be celebrated and that her tendency to plan was a good thing. 

Sometimes that tendency to plan got ahead of her. 

“I was going to give you a gift.” She started speaking softly. “I would find a small box, probably something a broach or set of pins came in. Then I would find some ribbons—but I never decided on the color. Green and white? Or pink and blue?”

Rhoe stiffened in her embrace. He guessed where the conversation was going. 

“I would get Marion to go into the shops, because I couldn’t go. I wanted it to be perfect, and I know she would have been able to find a good, sturdy rattle. Not gaudy, not made of silver or set with gems. Certainly not some heirloom. Just something pretty that would last even if it got thrown against the wall. I was so ready to put it in a box, to give it to you.” If she had the gift, she would have been giving it to him now. She would have been giving Rhoe the world. 

His arms tightened around her, and Rhoe lowered his head to breath into her neck. “Evalin.” But he didn’t have the words to say either. 

“I know it can take time.” Evalin said. “And I don’t—it’s never been something I felt like we needed. But gods, Rhoe. I’m so tired.” She cursed herself, hating how her voice went a little too soft at the end. Rhoe cupped the back of her head in his palm and looked up so they were eye to eye. Evalin couldn’t hide the sheen in her eyes. “I want a baby so much.”

“Oh, Ev,” Rhoe said as a tear escaped her eye. 

“So you see? That’s why we can’t—I can’t…the only thing I’ll be able to think about is a baby.” Evalin sighed. “Which is awfully counterproductive, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine.” Rhoe said. “It’ll happen soon, I feel it.”

She snorted, her tears drying. “It’s been years.”

“What’s a few years more?” He said, leading her to the bed. “But it won’t be that long. I swear, Evalin.”

“It shouldn’t have taken this long.” She got into her side of the bed, burrowing under the covers. 

Rhoe lay on his side to face her. “Do you want to talk to a healer?”

Alarm made her heart race. “Do you think something is wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Rhoe said calmly, putting a hand on her arm to stroke soothingly. “Maybe it’s nothing, and we just need to be a little patient. Or maybe it’s something small that they can fix.” 

Evalin nodded slowly, turning the idea over in her mind. It wasn’t unheard of, for a woman to need a little help conceiving. It could very well be that because of their strong bloodlines, it would just take more time and patience. Visiting a healer might put her mind at ease, or at least stop her questioning. 

Part of Evalin wanted to be discreet, but there was nothing shameful about calling a healer to her quarters. The next afternoon, she waited in her sitting room. The healer was on her way, and Evalin had called for tea a minute before. Nerves made her stomach twist, although there was nothing to be truly worried about. 

A knock on the door made Evalin jump up. She crossed the room to answer it, her anticipation lightened somewhat when she saw who it was. Hanna was a senior healer who had tended to both Rhoe and Evalin in the past. Of course they would send her to the princess. 

“Your Highness,” Hanna curtsied quickly. 

“Come in,” Evalin ushered her to sit. “How are you, Hanna?”

If Hanna noticed that Evalin was a little more flustered than usual, she didn’t say it. “I’m doing well.” She didn’t ask after Evalin, letting her bring up the topic on her own. 

“We should have some tea in just a moment.” Evalin sat, wishing she had ordered the tea earlier. She had nothing to do with her hands, and the only thing to do now was to jump right into the conversation. 

“Then I suspect this visit is for questions, not an examination?” Hanna asked. 

“Yes,” Evalin jumped right in. “Rhoe and I…there was a period of a couple of months after we were married that I took a contraceptive tonic. But only a few months. Now it’s been years and I haven’t ever conceived. So I was just wondering if there was something I was doing wrong.”

Hanna nodded, cool and calm as any healer should be. “First, as a friend to you, I want to caution you against that line of thinking. Blaming is not going to help things, not you, not your body, and not the prince. That being said, there are a couple of things that could be affecting fertility. May I ask a couple of questions?”

Evalin nodded, but in that moment the door opened again and the tea service was finally brought in. She hastily fixed a cup for Hanna and herself before bracing for the questioning. 

“I suppose I could ask the cooks in the kitchen, but I assume you are eating a balanced diet? Plenty of vegetables and fruits?”

Evalin frowned. “Well, I haven’t ever given it much thought, but yes. I believe so.” 

“I doubt there is a problem with you physically, Your Highness. You are in peak condition.” Hanna said. “How much tea do you drink every day?”

What peculiar questions. “A few cups? I have some at breakfast, and then if I am meeting with someone I’ll take a little in the afternoon. Sometimes in the evenings after dinner, but only if we are entertaining. Should I stop drinking tea?”

Hanna waved a hand. “No, I doubt that’s a problem either.” She gazed into her own cup. “Your Highness, may I ask some questions about the activities of your husband?”

“What?” Evalin blushed. “Why would you need to know about him?”

“Both men and women contribute to making a baby.” Hanna said. She proceeded to question Evalin about Rhoe’s drinking habits, how hot his baths were, if he smoked at all. It was all very odd to Evalin, but she answered everything in the hopes that Hanna might be able to give her some answers. 

When the questioning was done, Hanna put her cup of tea down on the table and sighed. “It seems to me that your biggest problem in conceiving is the fact that you trying to join two very powerful bloodlines.”

Though she tried, Evalin couldn’t hide her disappointment. It was the answer she knew that she’d get, but she had hoped for something else. Something small that she could maybe do better, a quick procedure that Hanna could perform. 

The longing for a child had been there for a while, but now Evalin worried it was going to eat away at her. No one had ever pressured her or said anything, at least not to her face. The desire for an heir wasn’t what kept her awake at night. It was the empty feeling in her arms, ready for the soft weight of a baby. Her baby.

“There are some things I can give you to try and help.” Hanna said softly. “I’ll have tonics sent up for both you and Rhoe. It’s just various extracts to keep your bodies healthy. But other than that, there is no big change to make. Unless you wish to fall back on old wives’ tales.”

Evalin laughed sardonically. “The ones that would have me only eating meat in hopes of conceiving a boy? I’ll pass.”

Hanna smiled approvingly. “I know it seems like it’s been forever, but magical blood tends to do this. Fae wait for decades to conceive a child.”

“Rhoe and I don’t have decades.” Evalin shook her head, standing. “Thank you, though, Hanna. You have put my mind at rest, at least a little.”

The healer stood as well. “Of course. Remember, a healthy mind is as crucial as a healthy body. If you are having worries, talk to your husband, or a friend. You can even call on me, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, Hanna, truly.” She squeezed the other woman’s hand and then lead her out. 

She paused at the doorway. “You Highness, the speculation about joining the Ashryver and Galathynius lines has only ever been speculation, but this only adds to a pile of evidence. When you are with child…Orynth has some of the best healers in the world. You are in good hands. But I want to prepare you. This will not be easy.”

Evalin nodded absorbing the words carefully. No one had wanted Evalin to marry Rhoe because of the volatile mix of their blood, but they could never say for certain what would happen. Yet if Evalin would carry a child with that much magic flowing through him or her, Hanna was right. It would not be easy. 

When Hanna was gone, Evalin deflated a little. There was really nothing left to do but wait. The disappointment annoyed her, both because this is what she had expected and because it really wasn’t all that bad. The situation wasn’t hopeless. But she had wanted to go back to Rhoe with something. She would hate for him to feel as let down as she was.

Maybe she would tell him to stop drinking, just for the sake of it. He would do it. And it would be good practice for when she did get pregnant, for if she was forbidden from enjoying her favorite wine, he would be too. 

Free for the rest of the day, Evalin went on the search for her cousin. One might think that sitting with Genevieve, who was a mother herself, or with Aedion, who looked so much like a child she could have, would be painful. But there was no time for selfish thoughts where Genevieve was concerned, for her cousin was incredibly selfless. She had been shut away by the Ashryvers when it was revealed that she was pregnant, unmarried, and had no intentions of revealing who the father was so someone else could press him into marrying the princess. They hadn’t cut her off, but the small manor house that Genevieve and Aedion resided in was isolated. A bit of property was connected to the estate, and a small town serviced the travelers and local farmers.

Genevieve was grateful for the anonymity. The better hidden she and Aedion were, the less likely Aedion’s father would find them. And if Aedion’s father found him, the chances of more malicious forces learning of his existence were too high. 

Evalin didn’t have time to envy her cousin. It wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t going to waste the precious moments with Genevieve and Aedion feeling sorry for herself. The time that Genevieve and Aedion had in Terrasen was winding down.

Evalin found her cousin and nephew playing in one of the courtyards. Aedion swung a wooden sword at imaginary combatants while Genevieve sat on the edge of a fountain, drained and dry so the water wouldn’t freeze in the pipes. 

“Evalin! How was your day? Not too busy, I hope?” Gen asked. 

Evalin sighed, sitting next to her cousin. “I want to say something, but I’m worried it might be upsetting to you.”

Gen cocked her head, eyes fixed on Aedion. “If it is, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Do you think it’s odd, or…I don’t know. Unfortunate? Unlucky? That you had Aedion and did not plan for him, while I wait for a child that I fear will never come.”

“Oh, Ev,” Gen put an arm around her cousin, letting Evalin rest her head on her shoulder. “You’ll have a child. I know it feels like it’s been forever, but it hasn’t. But to answer your question, it is a little funny, isn’t it? An odd twist of fate.” 

“I know you wouldn’t trade Aedion for anything.” Evalin said. “And I don’t mean to suggest that you don’t want him. And…I’m not jealous. At least, I don’t think I am.”

“I know,” Gen shrugged. “But maybe the gods did plan this out. I think Aedion will be very important to your child. I hope they become the best of friends.”

Evalin hesitated, but the words flowed from her mouth anyway. “How will they, when you are in Wendlyn?”

Gen stiffened. “You know we cannot leave.” There were still some bad feelings in Wendlyn about Evalin’s elopement. Just getting the king to let Gen and Aedion visit had been a struggle. 

“You don’t have to go back,” Evalin countered. Orlon wouldn’t be happy about the potential diplomatic falling-through, but he would hardly turn away Gen and Aedion. And this was Terrasen. Wendlyn was a powerful kingdom, but they wouldn’t risk much to get a disgraced princess and her son back. 

“Wendlyn is my home.” Gen said with finality. “I like Terrasen well enough, but it is not where I want to raise Aedion.” 

Evalin dropped the subject. It had been a conversation they’d had before, but she wasn’t eager to pursue it now. 

“Aunt Ev!” Aedion ran over on small legs, his sword swinging wildly in his grasp and a handful of weeds in the other. “Look!” He shoved the plants with purple leaves in her face. 

“Oh, wow, thank you, Aedion,” she took the weeds gently, brushing off the lingering dirt from the roots. “These are so nice.”

“Welcome,” he said, then he tossed aside his sword and tried to climb into his mother’s lap. 

“Mhmm, it’s nap time.” Gen stood, scooping up Aedion. “Oh! Remind me to say thanks to Marion later. She was such a help last night with getting Aedion to sleep.”

“Really?” While Aedion wasn’t looking, Evalin surreptitiously threw the weeds behind a bush. Then, she picked up Aedion’s discarded toy and handed it to her cousin. Aedion took it back, cradling the sword like a teddy bear.

“I think it’s because he thought she was so pretty,” Gen laughed. “He’s used to blondes, and her hair is different. He was entranced.” She said her goodbyes when Aedion started making a fuss, carrying him back inside. 

Evalin sat outside for a minute more, savoring the chill in the fall air. In Wendlyn, temperatures wouldn’t get this cold until winter. But here in Terrasen, the winter came quickly and was loathe to release its grip. She loved many things about her new home, but the copious amounts of snow were something she could maybe do without. 

“Your Highness?” A servant crossing the courtyard paused. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Evalin stood, brushing off her dress. 

The servant shook her head disapprovingly. “You’ll catch your death out here, Princess. Get back inside!” She shooed Evalin in front of her playfully, disappearing once they got further into the castle. 

That was another difference between here and Wendlyn. While there was a clear divide between those who worked in the castle and those who lived in it, Evalin liked to think that no one lived in fear. That’s not to say that the servants in Wendlyn were mistreated, but she was never as relaxed around the staff in her old home. It was possible to strike up a conversation as equals in the palace in Orynth, and she did not mind being teased. There was also the fact that Evalin was the foreign princess, not Crown Prince Rhoe or King Orlon. Those men were more intimidating. 

“There you are!” Rhoe appeared at her side, making Evalin jump. Intimidating indeed. “We’re having dinner with some of the court tonight.”

“Who’s coming?” Evalin asked. They walked down the corridor; Evalin with no destination in mind, and Rhoe content to follow her around the world if necessary. 

He listed off some names of their closest friends, those who knew Cal and Rhoe best. “And, I was thinking you could invite Marion.”

Evalin stopped. “Do you think she’d come?”

“I don’t see why not.” Rhoe said. “She’s technically your lady in waiting.”

That she was. For although social rules were flexible, there was no way that a laundress and Princess would get to spend so much time together above scrutiny. Calling Marion a lady in waiting was little more than a show for outsiders. 

But it was selfish to demand Marion’s time and not be a true friend in return. Friends invited their other friends to dinner parties. “I’ll send down a note right now.” Evalin decided. Others in the court were familiar with Marion, but they really should get to know her better. Evalin had been selfish in keeping her friend to herself. It was time that the rest of the world got to see how wonderful Marion was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please take two seconds to leave a comment! Let me know what you liked/disliked, what your favorite line was, or what could be improved. Seriously. I don't like this trend of not leaving constructive criticism. In mY DAY--
> 
> Never mind.
> 
> You can find on tumblr @thehaemantus (for books) or @weavemeamyrtlecrown (for everything else)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo sorry for taking so long. But the next chapter is written and I have a rough idea of where we're going, so there's that. The next chapter is in Cal's POV, and I'm hoping for a Rhoe one to come out as well. We'll see what happens. 
> 
> Thank you to Nayiri for giving this a read through and correcting my mistakes, lol.

Marion gaped at the note in her hand. 

“What is it?” Her roommate, Larken said. “Did someone die?”

Marion scowled. “No one died, Lark.”

“Then what is it?” She leaned forward on her bed. 

Marion scooted back on her own and brought the note closer to the candle light. Evalin had invited her to a dinner party. A dinner party that some of the most powerful people in Terrasen were invited to. A dinner party that she was utterly unprepared for. 

It would be beyond rude to reject the invitation. She had to accept, although she had nothing to wear and no idea how to act. There was only one thing to do. 

“Lark, we’re going to need help.” 

In an hour, the finest things that the maids in the palace owned were sorted through. Marion hurriedly threw on her own dress—the one she wore when meeting with Evalin indoors, as opposed the one she donned for their walks. Embellishments were hastily sewn on. Loaned ribbons held back her hair, which was unruly due to a day spent in the laundry room. The smallest bit of rouge was dabbed onto her cheeks. Her ears weren’t pierced, which one hand meant she had no need for earrings. On the other, her face would look bare if it wasn’t framed by jewelry the way the other ladies’ faces undoubtedly would be. 

The empty space was partially filled by a delicate yet eye-catching necklace of silver and amber. The deep orange of the amber contrasted nicely with the sweet purple of her dress, and the whole look came together nicely with the ribbons of dark purple velvet in her hair. 

“If only we could steal something from the laundry,” Crista inspected Marion from head to toe while Lark bounced on her toes, ready to add more rouge when directed. In Marion’s opinion, she had quite enough. “But with our luck, you’d be wearing some lady’s gown and she’d recognize it.”

Marion shuddered at the thought. “I need to go.” She wanted to get there early, so as people trickled in, she could learn names. The other girls shrieked and squealed, ushering her out the door and wishing her good luck.

Marion tried to keep her steps measured as she walked through the palace, but it was an effort not to walk quickly and work off her nerves. It was even harder not to turn around and rip off the adornments. What was she thinking? 

The guards didn’t give her a second look as she strode past, which was a good thing. She wouldn’t look completely ridiculous, only out of fashion. Marion worked in the laundry rooms of a palace. She knew what ladies should wear. 

The guards at Evalin and Rhoe’s rooms simply ushered her in, seeming to already be expecting her. Thank goodness. She had considering bring the note with her as a sort of invitation, but there was no place to put it in this dress. 

If she was a proper lady, she would have worn a light cloak with a small pocket, even if she was only walking through the palace. There would be a fan hanging from her wrist that she could use to cool off and give signals. Her ears would have been pierced as a baby, and heirlooms would be plentiful for her to choose from. 

No time to think about that now. 

“Oh, you’re early.” Rhoe looked up from where he was reading in the sitting room. Not one of the novels that Evalin enjoyed; it was likely a report. 

Marion made a movement between a nod and a shrug. “I thought it was best to learn names as people come in.”

Rhoe smiled sympathetically. “Marion, you know all of these people. I guarantee it.” He walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of wine for both of them. “Don’t worry,” he said as he handed her the glass. 

She looked at the dark liquid distrustfully. “I think I’m going to keep my wits about me tonight.” The wine they served in the servants’ halls with dinner was always watered down a little, and it was certainly not as fine as what Evalin and Rhoe had on a daily basis. When Marion had joined Evalin for lunch one day, she had been horrified to learn that she returned to work a little off kilter. Nowhere near drunk, of course, but off enough that she felt a little terrified and had immediately downed three cups of water. 

Rhoe took the glass back and dumped it into a waiting, empty decanter. He carefully added water and more wine, then poured her a glass of the new concoction. “You don’t have to drink, but it might be nice to have something in hand.”

“Thank you,” Marion looked down, face heating. The prince had to tend to her—this evening was already off to a bad start. 

“Don’t look so glum,” he nudged her with his shoulder. “You know everyone who will be here, and they know you too. I’m sure they are all eager to talk to you.”

That didn’t help Marion’s nerves. Rhoe saw this, and tried to make it better. “It’ll be fine. You’ll fit right in. You’re already looking like a court lady.”

Marion looked down at her old dress. “You think so?”

“You look beautiful, Marion, really.” Rhoe hugged her, and Marion immediately calmed. She understood why Evalin liked her husband’s embrace so much. He was a protector, and he made people feel safe. 

“If you two have an affair behind my back, you’ll ruin the novel I’m writing about my own love story.” Evalin emerged from her room, fiddling with an earring. 

Rhoe laughed, turning but keeping an arm around Marion’s shoulders. “What do you say, Marion?”

She scrunched up her nose. “Oh, I could never be with a man who is in your line of employment.”

Evalin rolled her eyes as the two of them sniggered, then cursed as her earring got caught in her hair. Marion stepped forward to help, but Rhoe was there before her. He gently untangled the intricate earring, helping Evalin put it back it. It was like Marion disappeared from the room, and the two were caught up in this intimate moment. She drew the line when Rhoe kissed Evalin’s neck, clearing her throat as a reminder to the couple that they were not alone. 

“Scoundrel,” Evalin muttered, lightly slapping Rhoe on the shoulder. “Anyway! Marion, you look stunning. Where did you get that necklace?”

“Um.” She could lie and spare Evalin any hurt feelings, but that would only cause anguish on her end. “I borrowed it for tonight.”

“It’s amazing,” Evalin said. “Is that amber?”

“It is.”

“How lovely,” Evalin sighed.

“Okay, fine, I’ll get you an amber necklace for Yulemas, or whatever holiday comes first.” Rhoe said. 

Evalin scowled. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“But I know you’ll want one,” Rhoe said. “It is rather nice.”

Marion’s hand moved to fiddle with the necklace that was the current center of attention, but she aborted the movement. No fidgeting. No nervous ticks. She had to stay calm and collected. 

The glass of wine in her hand was a seductive red. It promised a soothed mind at the cost of a loosened tongue. She took a measured sip. Nothing bad would happen as long as she kept herself under control. She would keep it at small gulps tempered by water and food.

The guests started trickling in. There were only about four other couples, along with some other young lords and ladies. Or rather, the children of lords and ladies. Quinn, the Captain of The Guard, seemed to have given himself a rare night off and decided to join. Lord and Lady Allsbrook, though a little older than the assembled crowd, were a stately presence. Of course, Lord Lochan was also present. He was the center of attention, the new guest in the castle and the old friend. 

To her relief, Marion didn’t have to suffer through much socializing before dinner was served. Seats were not assigned, and so she found herself seated between Evalin and Lady Allsbrook. 

“I’m glad you were able to join us, Marion,” Lady Allsbrook said as she daintily set her napkin in her lap. “You are looking beautiful tonight, by the way.”

Marion couldn’t help her blush. “Thank you, my lady.”

“The necklace is amber, no?”

She nodded, placing her own napkin in her lap and trying not to sink into her chair as servants started serving. “I borrowed it from a friend.”

“Amber necklaces were in fashion about thirty years ago,” Lady Allsbrook said. “Everyone’s mother owned one, but as soon as the fad died many pieces were melted for the silver or sold. Your friend is very lucky to have one.”

Marion doubted the maid who had lent the necklace knew the history of it. She had probably thought it looked pretty and spent a bonus salary on the trinket. “I’ll be sure to tell her that.”

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant. Marion was not required to speak unless someone addressed her. Mostly, she was content to listen. The party was small enough that one or two conversations were held at a time, many centering on the state of the kingdom, who was having trouble with farmland, politics, and other matters that flew over Marion’s head. Rather than feel overwhelmed, however, she devoured every piece of information. Evalin or even Lady Allsbrook would lean over and fill in a gap in knowledge occasionally. When Rhoe and Lord Eldrys debated over whether they should raise tariffs, Marion leaned forward. 

“Raising the tariffs would make the wheat produced in Terrasen the cheaper alternative,” Lord Eldrys argued. 

Rhoe shook his head. “We don’t need the extra revenue, and we don’t need to start a trade war with anyone.” 

Lord Eldrys straightened. “Farmers in our lands are hurting, Your Highness.” 

Marion frowned. Wheat wasn’t a good crop to grow except in the southern lands of Terrasen. In fact, it was hard to get anything to grow well in the northern land. Their wealth came from mining, livestock, and other goods. Everyone knew this. Why was any farmer trying their luck with wheat?

“Why can’t they grow something else?” The words were out of her mouth before she could think about them, and suddenly the eyes of everyone in the room pinned her. 

“Quotas,” Evalin explained. “Some lords ask their people to grow certain amounts of different crops.”

Marion nodded, though she didn’t understand why any northern lord would ask their people to grow wheat. The confusion must have read on her face, because Rhoe explained. “We don’t want to be dependent on foreign goods for sustenance. In the event of a war, Terrasen needs to be able to provide for itself.”

“Not that war is close,” Evalin hastened to add. 

“But wheat grows terribly in northern Terrasen, everyone knows that.” Marion said. “Why make farmers struggle for an experiment?” She wanted to snatch the words out of the air as soon as she spoke. Marion wasn’t just questioning laws. She was questioning the very people who sat around her. 

Evalin came to her rescue. “Yes, Lord Eldrys, why are we putting these policies in place?”

The lord scowled at being challenged. “You can never be too careful. And I don’t like the noises that Adarlan has been making.”

“We will deal with that when the time comes. In the meantime, Miss Marion raises important points to consider. Why make our people struggle now to avoid a future suffering that is only theoretical?” Lord Lochan drew the attention of the table, including Marion. She was a little slow to understand and piece all the words of his sentence together, but when she did she was pleasantly surprised and gratified.

Rhoe cleared his throat. “Why continue with discussions of policy at my dinner table? I thought that was for the meetings I’m stuck in all day.”

There were murmured apologies and “quite right’s” and “indeed’s” and then the group branched out into different conversations. Marion marveled at how quickly they could let go of one subject and pick up another. That they could just drop something so vital to the people of Terrasen was stunning to her.

Dinner passed uneventfully, and Marion was just about to think she could escape this encounter unscathed when the party moved back into the sitting room. Tea, coffee, and drinks were laid out. A card table was set up in the corner, and someone sat at a piano to provide music. 

Marion took her own cup of tea when offered some and sat on the edge of a couch, only half-listening to the conversation around her. Rhoe and Evalin’s court was supposed to be relaxed and friendly. How did she still feel so out of place? And what did that mean for the courts of other lands?

“How are you, Miss Marion?” 

She almost jumped at being addressed. To her right, Lord Lochan had just sat down in an armchair. He was smiling, though that might be from the effect of the spirits and the boisterous conversation he was holding earlier with a couple of men. Marion had been able to hear their laughter from across the room. Though it seemed now he had decided to leave the company of his friends and grace her with his presence.

“I am well, my lord. And you?”

“Glad to be reunited with friends,” he shrugged. “Always ready to go back home.”

Marion fished for a response. “You must love Perranth very much.”

It was the proper thing to say, as it caused Lord Lochan’s face to light up. “It is the most beautiful place in this world.”

“I have heard of the beauty of the Southern Continent and its great cities, the mountains in Wendlyn, the palaces of Eyllwe, the wonders of the fae realms,” Marion said. “But no one has ever spoken of Perranth being the most beautiful place.”

Lord Lochan shrugged. “Most do not. I suppose I see the beauty in it because it is my home.”

“Most people view their homes as ordinary while others places are exotic.” Marion countered.

“Most people don’t go on months long campaigns,” Lord Lochan said. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy what I do. But it makes coming home all-the-more sweet.”

“Well,” Marion said, “I hope I get the opportunity to visit one day.”

At this, Lord Lochan beamed. “I hope you do too.”

The conversation petered out. Marion frantically thought of something to say. Complimenting his clothes? Gah, no, she couldn’t get much tackier than that. Thanking him for taking her side earlier in the evening? No, of course not. She didn’t want to bring that back up. Commenting on the weather? Gods, she wasn’t that desperate yet, was she?

Lord Lochan saved them after a moment. “Most everyone has taken a turn at the cards table. Play a round with me?”

Marion blushed fiercely. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He actually didn’t know! Marion wanted to sink into the couch and never come out. “Well, I have no coins to spare, I’m afraid. And I wouldn’t know how to play with you lords and ladies anyway.” She tacked on the last part as a distraction and hoped it worked.

He took the bait. “And why is that? Do the rules of the game differ that greatly?”

“In a way,” Marion said. “When we play, cheating is expected. It’s part of the game. I assume you don’t, and I would hate to see what would happen if someone discovered I cheated Lord Eldrys of his money.”

“I hope you know, Marion, that I would defend your honor.” Lord Lochan grinned, a touch of mischief in his face.

She raised an eyebrow. “Even if I had been cheating?”

“Even then. Gods know Lord Eldrys can afford to be knocked down a few pegs.” 

Marion didn’t expect to laugh so loud, or indeed laugh at all. Lord Lochan had a look of delighted surprise on his face. His own chuckle made her cheeks warm, and she looked down into her teacup. Suddenly, she felt very shy again. “Well, it’s good to know I’ll always have one ally in my corner.”

“You will.”

The conviction with which he spoke made her look back up. The lord certainly wasn’t what she had expected. Such an earnest, sometimes awkward, young man. At the same time, he was an accomplished military commander and one of the most powerful lords in Terrasen. How had she gotten friendly with him so quickly?

Lord Lochan sensed her change in mood. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I must be a very lucky woman to have been given the opportunity of friendship with so many impressive people.” Marion said. “The gods have either blessed or cursed me.”

“Or it’s just you.” Lord Lochan said. “Miss Marion, you are…quite impressive as well.”

“Oh,” Marion really wished she had a fan now. She thanked him softly, and with nothing else to do took a sip of her tea. If only she had something to hide her face. A fan would be very welcome right then.

The clock chimed in the corner, and Marion took advantage of the late hour to make her escape. “I should be going now.” She stood, momentarily forgetting her manners in her haste.

“Right,” Lord Lochan stood with her. “I, uh, thank you for your company.”

Marion curtsied and retreated. She succeeded in keeping her face tranquil, though her embarrassment was already beginning to chew her up on the inside. Awkwardly, she left her teacup on a side table then weaved through the crowd to find Evalin and say her goodbyes. 

She found Rhoe first and waved when she caught his eye, gesturing towards the door. He broke off the conversation he was having and made his way towards her. “Leaving already?”

“Early morning tomorrow,” Marion said. Every morning was early for her. 

Rhoe nodded. “Of course.” With him at her side, they quickly pulled Evalin away so Marion could properly thank her for the invitation.

“Did you have fun?” Evalin took Marion’s hands in her own. She was so giddy that Marion couldn’t do anything but give an affirmative answer.

“It was a very pleasant evening,” she said. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course!” Evalin said. “We’ll have to include you some more. I don’t know why I didn’t before.”

Marion didn’t know if she was happy that she hadn’t been subjected to more of these gatherings. It was pleasant—educational in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Yet she also felt like she was a step behind, eager to soak up everything but lacking the base knowledge the rest of the table did. While no one would ever make her feel purposefully inferior for it, Marion’s status was unavoidable. 

The next time Evalin sent an invitation, Marion would accept. She would just have to prepare herself better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Cal is actually going to be a gigantic dork, so I hope you all are looking forward to that.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @thehaemanthus for book-centered stuff, or @weavemeamyrtlecrown


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who it is?? LORD CAL LOCHAN!!!!!!! 
> 
> I think I may have overdone it with the dork. Pls review.
> 
> Edit: I forgot to tell y'all that the soundtrack to this story is the Braveheart score. I like the end credits (it's literally called "end credits"). Tragic, noble, sweet, uh, brave, I guess? It works. The bagpipes really give it this mournful quality, which is appropriate because you know the story is going to end in tragedy, and I'll shut up now. But go give it a listen.

“Shit!”

“Keep your guard up,” Cal twirled his sword in his hands—a vain move, but one he had time for as Wylis shook out his leg. 

“Could have tried not to break my knee,” the other man grumbled. 

Rhoe heckled them. “Are you two sparring or flirting?” The other men who lingered on the edge of the sparring circle jeered. The training courtyard was full today.

With shared grins, the two men sprang back at each other. Cal had gotten plenty of time to spar when he was stationed on the Southern border, but he didn’t always have challenging opponents. Here in Orynth, the best caliber of fighters gathered. The ones who were fortunate enough—wealthy enough— to hire the best instructors. 

Cal himself had been taught by an old master, the very same that Rhoe had learned from. In the colder winter months, old Tarvis would spend time in Perranth. When the roads were mostly clear of snow, he would head back to the capital to teach the Prince. Sometimes, the Lochans would accompany him. More often than not however, Cal’s parents stayed in Perranth and spent as little time as they could afford in court. They, like their son, loved home too much to leave it.

“I can tell you’re distracted, Cal.” Though he didn’t shout, Quinn’s voice was clearly heard. “Keep a clear head as you’re fighting.”

With a grunt, Cal pushed on his sword, locked with Wylis’s, and jerked to the side. Clear head. Right. No time to think about Perranth, what was happening back home—

He cursed as Wylis nearly nicked his arm, but rolled just in time. Springing up, Cal burst forward in a series of calculated moves. The relentless attack would cost him unless he could get Wylis to yield. Their swords clashed harshly. Reverberations traveled down Cal’s arm, but his grip remained firm. When he saw an opening, Cal twisted his sword and disarmed Wylis. In an instant, Cal’s sword was poised to run through his throat. Wylis put his hands up, defeated, and Cal lowered his weapon.

“Good spar,” the other man shook his hand before picking up his own sword and retreating to pour himself a cup of water. 

Cal wiped sweat from his brow. He spun his sword again, readjusting his grip. “Who’s next?”

“How about we take a break?” Rhoe stood from where he was perched on a spare crate. Without looking to see if Cal was following, Rhoe walked to the side of the room to procure a towel and a glass of water. With a snort, Cal followed. He would never admit it, but the Prince had a habit of doing things and expecting that he would be followed. It wasn’t purposeful or a conscious thing. After years of his requests being followed, Rhoe had gotten used to it being so. When Cal had pointed it out to him years ago, the young prince had gotten flustered and second guessed his every word for a week.

None of that adolescent prince stood in front of him now. This was a man who was more conscious of the sway he held over others and knew how to use it. The glint in Rhoe’s eye meant that Cal was in for an interrogation.

He caught the towel Rhoe threw him and wiped the sweat from his face, then waited for Rhoe to talk.

“You going to tell me what’s been on your mind?” Rhoe held out the glass of water. At least he wasn’t holding it hostage in exchange for answers. That had happened once.

“Home,” Cal said. “And not in the usual way. Vernon has been…difficult.” Ever since the death of their father, Vernon had—well, acted out. The late Lady Lochan had done her best to temper her son, but her passing last spring had hit Vernon hard. 

Rhoe, who never had patience for the younger Lochan brother, rolled his eyes. “What’s the cretin done this time?”

“Shut up,” Cal threw his towel in Rhoe’s face. He was allowed to complain about his younger brother, but no one else was. 

“He is,” Rhoe batted the towel away. “He used to just be…I dunno. Odd. But lately he’s just been acting suspicious. I don’t like the way he looked at Evalin and Aedion when he visited.”

Cal’s blood froze. Rhoe was right—Vernon had never really fit in. While he and Rhoe had hit each other with wooden swords and run around the palace, Vernon preferred to read grotesque histories and be alone. Which was fine. Vernon was Cal’s odd little brother, but he was still Cal’s little brother. He would beat up anyone who spoke wrongly of Vernon. But if Vernon had been looking at Evalin or even little Aedion the wrong way… “He told me nothing interesting happened on his trip. He came, got what he needed from the libraries, and left.”

“He had dinner with us one night,” Rhoe said. “Pretty quiet, as usual. But he looked at them like they were some sort of…oddity.”

Cal wanted to believe that Vernon was just curious about Wendlyn, but something told him that wasn’t the case.

Rhoe continued, words spilling out as if they had been bottled inside this whole time. “There was this hunger in his eyes, I swear. Evalin says she didn’t notice, but she would say that just to get me to stop worrying. It’s not like Vernon can do anything to her or Aedion. But gods…something wasn’t right, Cal.”

“I’ll talk with him.” Cal’s stomach twisted. He sheathed his sword, mind already racing with how to bring up the subject with Vernon. “I think I’m done for the day.”

“Good.” Rhoe clapped his shoulder. “Get some rest. I want to get an early start for the hunt tomorrow.”

Damn. That was tomorrow, wasn’t it? Riding a horse was going to be hell after all the training he did today. Rhoe smirked as he walked away, and Cal resisted the temptation to throw something at his head.

Instead he made his way of out the training yards, past the stables to a side entrance to the palace. The cold air seemed the freeze his sweaty clothes. He had no other obligations tonight, and was looking forward to a warm bath and hot meal in his rooms.

His daydreaming was interrupted by a loud laugh, followed by amused shushing that was broken up by giggles. Two women walked across the courtyard with their arms linked—not just any women.

“Miss Marion!” Cal called out before he could think. They had been far away enough that he would not have been amiss had he chosen to ignore the pair, yet close enough that they heard him. Marion stopped in her tracks, probably because she was startled that he had yelled at her. And now what? She stood across the courtyard, waiting for him to move. He was the one who said something. Feeling like a fool, Cal raised his hand in a weak wave.

Marion seemed to take pity on him and made her way over, leaving her companion behind. She was shy, Cal knew. He had observed enough at the dinner party to glean that, but Marion was also exceptionally bright and gave off an air of easy confidence. It made her walk over to him seem natural. 

Wait. She was walking towards him. What was he supposed to say? Shit, she was right there.

“My apologies, I did not mean to distract you from your errand.” 

Gods above, if Rhoe had been there, if his friend knew what was going through Cal’s mind, he would never hear the end of it.

Marion, ever graceful and kind, took it in stride. “Don’t worry, it’s no bother.”

Cal nodded, clearing his throat and searching for a topic. “What brings you out so late?” The sun was just starting its descent, but this time of year, daylight would be gone in an hour. Much too late for two ladies to be out, in his opinion.

“Oh, just...shopping here and there.” Marion said. “My friend and I got a half day. Time to do our extra chores, write letters, buy a new dress.”

“That’s wonderful,” Cal said, genuinely happy. “You should buy yourself something nice. Not, uh, not that what you have isn’t fine. More than fine! You looked beautiful the other day, at dinner.” Rat’s balls, he was going to run away to Melisande where he could never make a fool of himself again.

“Buying something nice is the plan.” Thank the gods, Marion had mercy on him. “You look like you could use a new tunic yourself.”

Cal glanced down. “Ah. Yes. I spent the afternoon training…” He trailed off, not sure where to go with that. Surely no lady wanted to hear about him swinging his sword around?

But Marion’s eyes lit up with interest. “All afternoon? But you just came back from the southern border. Shouldn’t this be a time for relaxation?”

Cal shrugged. “I like the exercise and the new opponents.”

“Would you—” Marion broke off, a bright blush rising to her pale cheeks.

Cal’s curiosity was immediately peaked. “Would I?”

“Never mind,” Marion said.

“Please, tell me.” He grinned, feeling only a little guilty for being so endeared. 

Marion huffed, fiddling with the gloves on her hands. “Well, one of the boys in the laundry room asked me if you brought any men with you from the southern border, and if they’d be willing to train some people here, in the castle.”

A couple dozen men had rotated out of the southern border, but Cal never knew that local men and boys had a desire to train with them. “I’ll have to talk with them, but it shouldn’t be a problem. All they’ve been doing is sitting on their asses. That is— I mean…”

Marion laughed. “It’s alright. I hear worse.”

Though she had reassured him, Cal could still feel his face heat up. He cast about for another topic, for something to keep her here and talking to him.

“Well, I should be off now.” Marion spoke first, disappointing Cal with her intention to leave. 

If he was in any other state, he would have offered to escort the ladies. “Right. And I should tidy up before any other ladies are so unfortunate to come across such a rogue.”

She shook her head, trying in vain to conceal a smile. “If you have time, ask someone to bring you a little bit of soap. Just mix it all together in warm water and let the tunic soak. That’ll make it easier for the stains to come out when it gets sent to the laundry. And try not to roll around in the dirt so much, you’re too old for that.”

“Of course,” he said, and was still dumbstruck at the no-nonsense order she had doled out when she swiftly turned and walked to her companion. Gods, she could turn from a kind friend to a strict governess at the drop of a hat. 

Cal’s happy and slightly stunned mood lasted until he walked into his chambers and saw the pile of work waiting for him. Letters from Perranth and farther, likely all work. There’d be some personal correspondence, but most would be things for him to sign and press a seal onto, plans to make, briefings to read. Being away made it even harder for this crucial work to be done. Some he left to the steward and some he passed to Vernon, but Cal didn’t like handing everything off. He was Lord of Perranth. This was his responsibility.

But it could probably wait until morning. A bath was first on the list of priorities. Recalling Marion’s words, he asked a servant to bring soap.

Cal drew a bath, and the air quickly turned heavy with steam. The soap arrived shortly, and he used the bar of soap to rub at the dirt stains with some water first, then let it soak in the sink. He would have to remember to do this from now on. No one had ever complained, but they’d certainly appreciate the effort, right? Cal wasn’t a dirty man, but he got dusty when sparing, took some mud and grass stains to the knees when hunting, bleed once or twice after a good brawl. 

Oh. But was blood treated the same way? Cal had always handed off his laundry to someone. He never had to think about it. Even as a soldier stationed somewhere remote, there was someone to tend to the high-born men and officers. 

Pondering, Cal slipped into his bath and dunked his head under. The question nagged at him. He’d just have to ask Marion then.

Water splashed over the sides of the tub as Cal burst up. Of course! That’s how he would talk with her—and have a proper conversation. He would open with something they both knew—stains were a dismal start, to be sure, but he could steer the conversation away. In his mind, the scene played out. He would thank her for her advice, shyly remark that he may have spilled some wine at a raucous party, and could she please help him, but keep it quiet? People didn’t need to know the young Lord of Perranth was getting up to such things. And she’d say, yes, of course, it must be terribly hard to be such a young lord, how do you manage?

There! Satisfied, Cal leaned back in his tub. It wasn’t his best plan, but it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed (or thought this is part of the scum of the earth) please review! I enjoy a spectrum of opinions.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @thehaemanthus or @weavemeamyrtlecrown
> 
> Next chapter is a Marion one, and it should pick up right where we left off. Aaaand hopefully Rhoe will make himself known in my head and I'll understand how to write for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is rolling, folks! More developed plot! Tension between characters! And next chapter, a Rhoe POV!
> 
> Usually I address reviews at the bottom, but because this is important, I'm doing it here. I just want to say that I DO accept constructive criticism. I swear, it used to be that cc was expected. Yes, we all write fanfic for our enjoyment and to make others happy, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be given advice. I didn't realize some people didn't? When I saw some people getting upset over people leaving critical reviews, I was a little baffled. But hey, that's how fandom culture goes.
> 
> There's a whole discussion about this and why the tone of reviews changed (maybe because of the migration from ff.net to AO3, and the changed in terminology from "Review" to "Comment"). Some people think kudos make people less likely to comment. What matters at the end of the day is that writers see comments drop for the stories they write, which is kind of sad. People may still love what we write! But it doesn't come across as clearly in a kudo, no matter the intention.
> 
> So, two things. One, don't be afraid to leave a critical comment. Don't be afraid to tell me what you want to see. I have enough agency over my own life to know that the fanfic I write isn't that important, lol. No one is going to hurt my feelings, at least not that bad (key words are CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. No flames. Ugh, cue flashbacks). And two, your comment means A LOT more than pressing that kudos button. More than you might realize.
> 
> That's it for me, I'm stepping off the soapbox. Enjoy this chapter!

Marion could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as she walked away from Lord Lochan. She didn’t dare look back. He’d probably look profoundly offended. Why had she lectured him on cleanliness? He was a _lord_. If everyone did their jobs correctly, he never should have to deal with the laundry. It was the subject that was so far beneath him, it was a wonder he should even have to think about it!

“If you are my friend, you will not ask me what happened.” Marion muttered as she walked past Crista. Orynth was not a dangerous place, but it was a large city. She wanted to get what she needed and get back before the unsavory part of the city awoke.

Crista snorted, keeping pace. “If I am your friend, then you will know that I am here to listen.”

That should have been true, but Marion couldn’t make sense of her friendships in her head. Lately, she had felt like she was living two lives. How could she talk about the dinner party and her time with Evalin without driving a wedge between her and Crista?

“That was Lord Lochan,” Crista said with twinkle in her eye. “I’m surprised he recognized you.”

“We’ve talked,” Marion said. “He was just being polite.”

“Uh huh.” Her friend let the silence sit for a while. They emerged from the main palace gates, weaving through the streets of the wealthiest district. It was a fifteen-minute walk to the simpler shops, where the middle class and some of the servants shopped when they had enough money.

Marion had been saving for months for this trip. While others had spent their extra pay on nights out or lost it in card games, she had put money away for a new dress. Ideally, she would have gone by herself, but that was unwise.

The line between her two lives was blurring, and Marion was tempted to let it. She had to talk to someone, and it couldn’t be Evalin. Marion didn’t want to hurt or bother Evalin; she had enough on her plate already.

Her tongue finally loosened as they walked arm in arm down a dimly lit street. “I don’t know how to balance, Crista. When I talked with Lord Lochan, for a moment it felt like we could become friends. But he’s a lord, and one that doesn’t even spend time in Orynth.”

Crista shrugged. “No reason you can’t be friends, though. You _are_ with Princess Evalin.”

“But that’s different! Evalin is the foreign princess and future queen. People will allow her to do whatever she wants and brush it off as odd behavior,” Marion said. “But the Lochan family is second in power only to the Galathynius line. I can’t have a casual friendship with a lord.”

“Do you like him?”

Marion made a contemplative face. “Well enough, I suppose."

Laughing, Crista stopped. Her grip on Marion’s arm made her stop, too. “Marion, do you _like_ him?”

“Like…oh!” She blushed. “No, no, not like that.”

“Just checking.” Crista continued to walk. “Things could take a very different turn if you had that sort of interest in each other.”

“I will not become his mistress,” Marion vowed. “Leave for Perranth, someplace I’ve never been? I wouldn’t want that. Besides, Evalin and Prince Rhoe are my friends and have been very generous towards me. I _couldn’t_ do that.”

“If you cared about your lord, you might,” Crista pointed out. “It’s been done before.”

That was true. There were plenty of kitchen maids, stable boys, laundresses, who had been “poached” by a visiting lord and employed in a new household. The official story was simple; they were there for work. But most of the time, everyone knew that something else was going on. But Marion would not be that—she refused to.

She paused in front of a storefront, needing to close the conversation. “Even if Lord Lochan offered…that, I would never take it. I like where I am, and I’m not falling in love with him. I’m Evalin’s lady-in-waiting.” She paused until she saw Crista’s solemn nod, and then they entered.

“Evening, ladies,” the proprietress beamed at them from behind her counter. In this part of town, the service was friendly and helpful. Closer to the palace, where the expensive boutiques were, a servant would lead them to private rooms to try on garments and fetch them tea. If they trekked further east, Marion and Crista might be met with a nod when they entered a shop. Going any further than that would get them suspicious glares, but Marion had never had reason to venture to the more dangerous parts of the city.

“Good evening,” Marion said. “I hope we are not intruding too late.” First rule of shopping: form a friendly rapport.

The shopkeeper waved her hand, coming around the counter to properly tend to the girls. “No, no! It is an hour until we close still.” Still friendly, but a gentle reminder. If you want to linger, come back another day. But she’d be happy to help out now.

“I need a new dress,” Marion said. “Something of good quality that can be dressed up or made to look understated. My companion and I are laundresses at the palace; we know how to stitch on temporary embellishments, so a workable fabric, if you have it. I’d also prefer if you had something that would do all year-round. And is timeless, so as to not go out of fashion.” She finished by giving her budget, a sum lower than the money she brought with her. She had many stipulations, and the shopkeeper would likely bring something out of her price range, as shopkeepers were wont to do.

The shopkeeper laughed, but not unkindly. “You have quite a few demands. Take a look around here, and I’ll grab a few dresses for you.”

Crista was already making herself busy, pawing through a box of ribbons. Marion wandered towards a table filled with lace. She carefully looked through the different layers and designs. The patterns were beautiful, perfect for adding excitement to a bonnet or trimming the neckline of a dress or making simple baby clothes worthy of a prince or princess…

Marion sighed, delicately replacing the lace she had rifled through. Evalin wasn’t even with child yet. And when she was, gifts from all corners of the world would pour in. They wouldn’t need another night dress. But there had to be something unique that Marion would give. Evalin hadn’t announed a child yet, but she had mentioned her meeting with a healer. With the confirmation that Evalin and Rhoe had been waiting for a child, Marion started to get her hopes up.

“Here we are!” The shopkeeper returned with swathes of fabric draped over an arm. She draped each dress over a free table. There were five total, which was more that Marion was hoping for.

With a critical eye, she and Crista began inspecting the wares. “And you think this color will stand the test of time?” Crista frowned at the baby blue hue of one of the dresses.

“Yes, miss,” the shopkeeper said. “It’s a beautiful color, good for spring or summer skies or icy winter. As you said, embellishments can be added, some of which you can pick out here today. And the fabric is decently light weight, but see,” she lifted the hem of the dress, “there is room to let out the skirt in this design. Of course, we would be fitting you for your own dress. But we can leave room to let out the skirt to allow for additional petticoats in the winter. A couple of inches of room, if needed.”

“And can all of the dresses be given this modification?” Marion asked.

The shopkeeper looked over what she had brought out. “These three can without any changes to the style. In this one I’d have to change the skirt—too many pleats. And I’m afraid this last one won’t allow for additional give in the skirts.”

Marion sighed. That last one, a deep blue with silver embroidery, had looked the prettiest. But it was undoubtedly out of her price range and was not suitable to various uses. Doubtless, it was a dress brought out that the shopkeeper knew was out of her price range, but hoped to entice her customers with.

“I think we can get rid of this one,” Marion said. She was a careful consumer and hadn’t saved her money for so long to blow it now.

“Yes, miss,” The shopkeeper nodded and took the dress back.

Crista frowned at a soft yellow dress with white lace. “A little girlish?”

“It’s pretty,” Marion said, feeling the fabric between her fingers.

“But no good for winter, or even autumn,” Crista dismissed the choice. “There’s no way you could get away with so much lace at a party, let alone a ball. It’s more suitable to a spring tea.”

“True,” Marion said. “And as much as I like some lace, I don’t want it covering me. Besides, it’ll go out of fashion soon.”

“Exactly.” Crista said. “The pleats too.” She nodded to another dress.

“More suited to a walk or a hunt,” Marion mused. “Pleats won’t do for a tea or dinner party,”

 “So it’s between these two,” Crista pushed away their rejections so she could spread out the dresses. One, the baby blue dress they had inspected earlier. The other, a forest green with embroidery that could only be described as _bronze_.

The shopkeeper returned, happy to see that they had narrowed down their choices. “Both colors are suitable for any season, and the designs are timeless. You won’t be fashionable, but you won’t be out of place either.”

“This bronze color,” Marion traced a finger on the embroidery. “I haven’t seen anything like it,”

“Yes, miss, it’s unique,” the shopkeeper said. “Silver and gold are usually the only metallic colors used in clothing, and it was a challenge to get this color, truth be told. But there won’t be anyone else wearing it! You may start a fashion amongst your friends.”

Marion smiled to herself. “Oh, I doubt that.”

“I think the blue is the safer option,” Crista said. “That bronze won’t fit in, come spring time,”

“It could,” Marion said, defending the dress that was slowly becoming her favorite.

“Indeed, miss! With some pink flowers, or ribbon,” the shopkeeper darted off, and then returned with fabric flowers and ribbon. “The pink, the purple, even a yellow…”

When Marion turned to her friend for her input, she shrugged. “It’s nice, but I’d play it safe and go with the blue.”

“Ah, but blue may not be the safest choice.” The shopkeeper interjected.

Marion frowned. “Why not?”

“It could be considered taboo to wear this shade of blue around the palace,” the shopkeeper pointed out.

Understanding dawned on Marion and Crista at the same time. If Evalin was pregnant and Marion wealthier, she would have brought the dress as a gamble, ready to whip out in the event of the birth of a little prince. Blue would be all the rage then. But tempting fate before that...

“Green it is!” Crista announced.

Before getting fitted, Marion started haggling on the pricing. It was a risk—if she upset the shopkeeper too much, she could be run through with a pin—but she liked leaving the shop without a bitter taste in her mouth. And, leaving the shopkeeper on a good note meant her dress would come out without any sloppy seams or handiwork.

Marion was able to bargain down the price, wheedling a little more from the shopkeeper when she added two silk flowers and some ribbon to the purchase, plus a promise of future business. In the end, she ended up safely below her budget.

The fitting went smoothly, and together Marion and Crista were able to get back into the shopkeeper’s good graces.

“Come back in two weeks,” she told them when Marion declined to pay an additional fee for delivery. “And tell your friends where you got the dress!”

“Of course.” Marion collected the package of ribbons and flowers. “Thank you for your help.”

“Thank you, miss. Get home safe, ladies!” The shopkeeper saw them out, and the lights started fading from the windows.

“We weren’t more than an hour, were we?” Marion asked Crista, concern clouding her eyes.

Crista waved a hand. “Yes, but that’s because she wouldn’t lower the price of the dress when you added the extra silk flower. It took me five minutes to get her back down!”

“Your bargaining reputation is untarnished,” Marion reassured her friend. “I am well below budget. Maybe I could get a new cloak…”

“You should,” Crista said, wrinkling her nose. “Yours is getting ragged at the hem. Or, of course, you could always keep the next one Lord Lochan hands to you. I’m sure he has plenty.”

Marion yelped indignantly, and Crista laughed, swerving to dodge the swipe she sent her way. A bang from an alley across the street sobered the mood quickly. “Come on, let’s get going,” Marion hooked her arm through Crista’s and they stalked home. There were still people out and the pubs were busy, but there was no reason to be careless at this time of the evening.

They made it back in time to catch the tail end of dinner, where Marion let the other girls in the servant’s hall ooh and ahh over her purchases. Crista described the whole outing to them in comical fashion, exaggerating the stubbornness of the shopkeeper and her own haggling prowess. So much for bringing more business to the shop.

Marion watched fondly as her friends laughed loudly and freely passed around a bottle of ale. It was weak stuff, a homebrew from a girl’s mother—but the taste was decent. Every once in a while, they would break out a bottle and get a few sips each.

This was where Marion belonged, where she felt comfortable. Here, no one sneered when a girl wiped her mouth with the back of her hand or when the laughter rose a little too loud. Here, some silk flowers and pretty ribbon were deemed worthy enough to be items of interest.

Though Marion acted casual when her friends had unpacked the embellishments, she couldn’t contain her own giddiness when she went to pick up her dress. The shopkeeper had her try it on, but the workmanship was good. It fit perfectly while still leaving room for alteration.

“The skirt is a little looser at the moment,” the shopkeeper explained. “Allowing for two petticoats. You should be able to get four under there when you let out the seam.”

“Thank you,” Marion adjusted her grip on the parcel that held her prize. “It turned out wonderful.”

“Pleasure is mine,” the shopkeeper nodded.

Her giddy mood lasted, and she wore the dress the next day to a private tea with Evalin. They were to meet in one of the sitting rooms in the royal family’s wing of the palace.

As luck would have it, Dollej was on duty. He whistled low when he saw her. “Who did you have to blackmail for that?”

“Shut it,” Marion tried to tamp down her blush. “I saved. Like any sensible woman should.”

Dollej snorted. “Fair enough. If there ever was a sensible woman, you’d be it, Marion.”

To her, the words would be a compliment. The way Dollej said it didn’t make it feel that way though. She just rolled her eyes to mask her discomfort and walked into the sitting room. Evalin was waiting with a novel, but the tea hadn’t come yet.

When her friend looked up, her eyes turned as wide as saucers. “That’s beautiful! When did you get it?”

“It was finished just yesterday,” Marion twirled a little, feeling indulgent.

Evalin laughed, taking her hands. “Come, come, into the light! Oh, that color!”

A knock sounded on the door, followed by a maid pushing a tea service in. “Your Royal Highness,”

“Thank you, that will be all. I’ll ring if we need anything.” Evalin dismissed the maid with a smile then started pouring the tea. “Sit, and tell me where you got that dress!”

Marion took her tea and a little pastry for herself before starting the tale. Though she wasn’t half the storyteller that Crista was, she still managed to make it seem at least a little exciting.

“So I came away with coins to spare, a new dress, and some things to sew on.” Marion said proudly. “I wanted to show it to you now, because I’ll have to start to work on it if I want it to be suitable for Yulemas.”

“Yulemas?” Evalin asked.

“I know it’s a long way away,” Marion said. “But even in the servants’ hall, we get a little dressed up. I’ll have to do a little work at a time, but I think I could add something to the neckline? I had some money left over, so that should be enough to buy red ribbon for my hair. But Crista and Larken probably have some I could borrow.” Seeing the look on Evalin’s face, she backtracked. “Or, would red not look good?”

“Red would look fine,” Evalin assured. “It’s just. Well. I was hoping you would attend our Yulemas ball.”

The blood drained from Marion’s face. The Yulemas ball? The one attended by the royal family and nobles from all around the kingdom? The one that even foreign dignitaries and the wealthiest of merchants came to?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to!” Evalin reassured her.

“It’s…an honor to be invited. To even be considered.” Marion said slowly. “But I’m afraid it’s no place for me.”

“Why not?”

And here was the crux of the problem, the issue Marion felt they had been skirting for months. “Evalin, I’m a laundress. I can’t go to Terrasen’s Yulemas ball.”

“Of course you can,” Evalin insisted. “Do you think we’d be ashamed of you? Even Orlon is fond of you.”

“I’ve barely met His Majesty,” Marion said. “It’s not…I don’t doubt the court of Terrasen, for the most part, would welcome me there. Our country is full of kind people. But others who are not as close to the royal family or as devoted will also be present. And I…I will stick out like a sore thumb.”

“You’re as stunning as any of the court ladies,” Evalin insisted. “More so.”

Marion laughed at her friend’s naiveté. “In this? No matter how much work I put into this dress, it won’t be in style. Besides, the fashion this year for the Yulemas ball is pale colors. I have nothing like that, and I just spent my savings on this.” Maybe if she had known earlier, she could have purchased a dress of pale cream, to blend in…

Slumping in her chair, Evalin looked very un-princess like. “I…did not think about that. I am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Marion shrugged. “I appreciate you wanting me there. Really. But I think everyone would just be more uncomfortable.”

A huff of air escaped Evalin’s mouth, and the princess glared out of the window. Then her face softened into something deadly. Marion’s stomach turned. “What are you planning?”

Evalin’s gaze turned to Marion, and it only terrified her a little. “I understand that you don’t feel comfortable around the court of Terrasen, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. But these people like you. We all want to spend more time with you, and I’d personally like to be able to do that. The more people you win over, the easier it will be. So let’s make a plan. I’ll keep inviting you to gatherings of the court. Small things at first, like the dinner party, and then we’ll work our way up. If you feel more comfortable by the time Yulemas comes around, you’ll attend. And I’ll make sure you have a dress worthy of a princess.”

Marion eyed her friend warily. “And what do you get out of it?”

“I get my friend,” Evalin beamed.

“And I don’t have to attend if I don’t want to?”

“You can call it off any time,” Evalin assured her. “I just don’t want you to be shut away, like my secret or something. You’re one of my best friends, and an amazing woman. You deserve more.”

Marion eyed Evalin suspiciously. “I don’t get it. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Evalin raised her hands in innocence. “Just a challenge for both of us. You come into court life a little more, and I take my head out of my ass and make sure you really feel welcome.”

“Oh, Evalin,” Marion frowned. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I haven’t done anything commendable either,” Evalin protested. She got up to sit next to Marion, taking her friend’s hand in her own. “I want you to be my friend for years to come. I can’t keep you shunted away.”

Though she knew her friend was right, Marion shook her head. A life so close to court was not what she had planned for herself. It seemed unfair for her to get this privilege. What had she done to earn Evalin’s favor? Any laundress could have attended to the young bride when she first came to Terrasen. Anyone could have helped her out.

But this wasn’t about owing or favors. Somewhere along the line, their tentative acquaintance had transformed into a friendship, and friendship into the deepest of bonds. Marion loved Evalin, not because she was the princess, but because she was _Evalin_.

“All right,” Marion said. “All right. But…slowly.”

Evalin beamed, kissing her friend on the cheek in her exuberance. “Wonderful! Are you free tomorrow?”

“I’m always free for you,” Marion answered truthfully. If the princess beckoned, no one could keep her.

Sensing the delicate wording, Evalin rephrased. “Is tomorrow a convenient time for you, or should we schedule for another time?”

Marion shrugged. “I have one day off a week, Evalin, and I have to use that to attend to some of my personal chores. There isn’t really an optimal time. But tomorrow should work fine.” She’d just do her work quickly, maybe stay through lunch. Yugla wouldn’t say anything, but Marion had been carefully working to avoid the ire of the others in the laundry room. If they saw her missing for more than two days in a row, tempers may rise.

“Good. Come to my rooms, and we’ll start to find a Yulemas dress for you,” Evalin nodded to herself. “Do you mind if I invite Lady Allsbrook as well? I know you seemed comfortable with her, and she’ll be a valuable opinion.”

Marion took a deep breath. Small steps. She did like Lady Allsbrook, and the older woman would be a counterweight to Evalin. “I don’t mind.” Hopefully she wouldn’t be eating her words later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please take a moment to leave a review. Kudos are nice, but reviews are better. Tell me what your favorite line was, what you liked or didn't like, or even just tell me if there was a typo. All of the above is appreciated and welcomed!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @weavemeamyrtlecrown or @thehaementhus


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